Winter Chills, From Autumn's Pass
From perfection rises conflict,
Nothing not said is left.
She looks haunting and beautiful,
a black dress under black hair.
A child of sirens and crows,
A dream of autumn's falling leaves,
And turning shades of color,
Green to red to yellow.
Like me, they begin to fall.
In a natural way to myself,
always tripping on change.
The chill of winter's breath
Is not yet under my skin.
Her ever growing coldness is
not yet in season.
But colors of red and yellow
Remind me that soon the leaves,
Once green, vibrant, warm
Will fall.
2 comments:
I love this..
:) thank you!
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